


Enarmored

by Mytha



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attraction, Awkwardness, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Gifts, Grief, Miscommunication, Romance, Swords & Shields, a tenous grasp of floriography, casual consumption of alcohol, easily spooked romantics, oblivious Cassandra, some friendly intervention, strong ladies admiring each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-14 00:12:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16028933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytha/pseuds/Mytha
Summary: A personal quest takes Aveline Vallen to Skyhold, where her grief over the loss of Hawke and the unexpected friendship of Cassandra Pentaghast help her form new plans for the future.DANGER! Easily spooked romantics in their natural habitats.





	Enarmored

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChocoChipBiscuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/gifts).



> For ChocoChipBiscuit, who asked for baffling attempts at courtship, Nevarran floriography, pining, incorporation of _Swords & Shields_, incomprehensible mating habits and friendly intervention.

Aveline left Kirkwall again – this time for Varric's sake. He had sent a letter with the news of Hawke's fate. You did not just let old friends down. Oh yes, the rogue was a piece of work, but he was loyal. So was Aveline. After this whole business with Hawke... well, she owed him. She had owed Hawke much more – and now... Hawke was gone.

She had left Kirkwall only once before, when Hawke had asked her to take Bethany somewhere safe, far away from the Orlesian Wardens. Bethany was a mage – and what news she had received from Hawke regarding the mage Wardens had been most troubling. Rumors that proved worse than true in the end. 

Bethany was safe now. Aveline had seen to it per Hawke's request. Secreted away out of Orlais before any of the corrupted Wardens could reach her in that Maker-forsaken hamlet on the border of the Anderfels they had sent her to. They were left with few options; corruption in Orlais, strong numbers in the Anderfels and Ferelden, a growing presence in the Free Marches. Desperation and a tip off from an informant sympathetic to the mages fleeing Kirkwall saw Bethany settled on the sparsely inhabited plains South of Nevarra City. 

Though the thought of wide-spread necromancy made Aveline shiver with revulsion – Nevarra was now a safe haven for mages fleeing the war that was ravaging most other countries. It made sense. Nevarran mages were well-integrated into their society, which revered its Mortalitarsi especially. Aveline had accompanied a group of Kirkwall mages there on her way through Nevarra to the Anderfels. They hid out in caves and later huts half-buried in the ground, that offered protection from the elements as well as from prying eyes. Their camp was well-established when she returned weeks later and left Bethany there.

Varric had written to her that he did not expect her to come to Skyhold, but she had insisted, for his sake as well as her own. Short of traveling to the Western Approach, where Miriam Hawke had fallen at Adamant, Skyhold was the place where Aveline felt she might be able to do what must be done, to do what had made her stomach leaden for weeks – to say goodbye to Hawke for good – to let her go.

There, in the Frostbacks, Hawke had finally come out of hiding and reunited with Varric. There had been letters to friends, relayed by Varric. There had to be more. More stories, passed on by Varric, of Hawke larger than life: righteous, brave, kind – always beneath a veneer of frustrating flippancy. Always more stories.

Making her way from Kirkwall to Jader, up through Ferelden and the Frostbacks, Hawke was her constant traveling companion. Echos of Hawke that refused to die down ringing in her head all along the way. Speculations of her dear friend's fate haunted her. Well, it would be good to speak to Varric. To hear the truth of it all at least. Varric wouldn't embellish this. 

__

The final approach to Skyhold was bracing. Snow still remained this high up in the Frostbacks, even in summer. Aveline traversed the valley the Inquisition's troops camped in. There was a vast lake of glacial-bright water shimmering in the sunlight, amplifying the reflecting light of the already blinding whiteness around her. The air was fresh and clean. Aveline breathed deeply and savored it. This was a true treat for someone used to spending most of her days in the stifling heat and smothering stench of the streets of Kirkwall. It brought back memories of her youth spent in Ferelden.

Skyhold itself perched on top of one of the lower peaks of the mountain range that sheltered this valley from much of the harsh weather. It took another hour's hike to reach it. Stepping through the gates Aveline immediately felt the need to rid herself of her heavy woolen cloak – the temperature in the fortress was unexpectedly much warmer than in the valley. She had heard rumors of Skyhold's magical properties. There had to be some truth to them then.

A few scattered pilgrims and soldiers had made their way up with her and nobody paid her any particular attention until she put down her pack and took off her coat, freed her hair from its bindings, which had come loose under her cap, and shook it out before refastening it. As she was fastening it again there was a low whistle from somewhere above her.

Perched on the wall that separated the lower from what she assumed was a higher courtyard was a young elven woman in tattered clothing and a mass of choppy blonde hair that fell over her grinning face as she leaned down to wink at her.

“Do you know where I can find Varric Tethras?” Aveline called up to her. If the woman was at home here, she would surely know where he was.

“You know Varric, yeah? He's in the main hall usually.” She gestured to the grand staircase to the right of her.

“Thank you.” Aveline briefly considered asking the young woman to watch her pack, but then shouldered it again and made her way up the stairs. 

The main hall was dark and she took a few steps into it not really making out more than the huge stained glass windows at the end of it. She stopped and stood still for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the low light when there was a sound to her right and a cough voice coughed before exclaiming, “Shit... Aveline?!”

“It is good to see you, too, Varric,” she replied, watching a shadow peel itself away from the flickering light of the hearth and reveal itself as the familiar form of her dwarven friend.

“You really came.” His face seemed more worn than she remembered. Stubble on his chin, lines around the eyes – pale and sallow.

“I needed to.” She admitted. “Hawke was-” The words stuck in her throat.

“I know.” Varric took her hand and squeezed it briefly then indicated the mismatched chairs around the table in front of her. “Take a seat. I cannot offer you much, but I'll make sure the Inquisition treats you right while you are here.”

Aveline did as invited. With her eyes fully adjusted to the dark hall she saw the many pages marred with Varric's familiar scrawl that lay scattered across the table they sat at. Further down the hall there were more tables and people sitting and standing, moving and talking - all kinds of accents and types of dress. There were costly drapes that ran up to the ceiling and an amalgamation of artwork, weapons and hunting trophies from all over Ferelden decorated the walls. At the very end, underneath the gleaming stained glass windows, stood a simple throne which her gaze lingered on.

“Ah.” Varric chuckled. “The Inquisitor is not at home, if you were hoping to meet her.”

“It was you I came to see.” That was not the whole truth. “This place – I had to... I did not think I could truly say goodbye to Hawke until I had seen it.” She paused. “You know Hawke wrote to me from here?”

Varric wiped his eyes. “Happy to finally be out of hiding, no doubt. It does something to a person – having to hide like that.” He cleared his throat. “But we can talk about all that later. Now let's find you some quarters.”

__

Room was scarce at Skyhold. With so many people visiting the fortress many had to share quarters if their stature did not demand more privacy. Aveline was happy enough to share, however, and was given a bed in one of the attics that looked like it had been recently rebuilt with the need for additional living space in mind. The beds were sectioned off with wooden walls and curtains, allowing each occupant at least some privacy. There was a chest at the foot of the bed, which could be secured with a lock. Aveline deposited most of her luggage there when she unpacked. 

Washed and dressed in a fresh shirt and leathers, she shouldered a sack of laundry and those pieces of her armor that needed some mending and made her way back downstairs. Varric had disappeared, as had his papers – but she was welcomed effusively by an Antivan woman dressed in gold, who introduced herself as Josephine Montilyet, ambassador of the Inquisition. She tried to convince Aveline to take different quarters and, when she politely refused, waved over an aide, whom she instructed to take Aveline's laundry and armor. Aveline thanked the boy for his help but assured him and the Ambassador that she would prefer to see to her armor herself. 

There was a smithy in the courtyard, and the sound of metal being worked echoed dully from within. She would surely be able to find, if not someone to help her with the mending that required more skillful hands, someone who was able to lend her a hammer and tools to deal with the dents in her cuirass and vambraces. 

There were only two men at work – one apparently forging blades for short-swords, the other busy with the grinding of the blades. Everything about the place suggested efficient work and the creation of many good and basic weapons for a large organization such as the Inquisition was becoming. She introduced herself quickly, not wanting to hold them up, and – told to help herself to the tools she required – sat down on a stool and rolled up her sleeves to get to work. 

The heat of the forge was a blessing after so many weeks on the road and balm for her bones and muscles. The work made her sweat, but it was extremely satisfying to be finally able to put her armor in order again. When her work was done she stood and stretched, admiring the result. Suddenly she had the odd sense of being watched. No, not the smiths – she looked up and saw a dark figure, outlined in light from the windows behind leaning on the railing of one of the upper stories of the building. Who was watching her? 

“Hello?” she called to the figure above. 

There was no reply, but the figure retreated a little. Aveline shook her head, bemused at having had an audience, but dismissed the thought of investigating further and instead shouldered her armor and returned to her quarters. 

__

Aveline spent that night with Varric in Skyhold's tavern. It was almost like old times barring the ever present absence of Hawke – though the smells and sounds of The Herald's Rest were much less offensive than those of Varric's old haunt – and home – The Hanged Man. There was friendly camaraderie all around them and she watched the crowd intently. 

“A good place you found here,” she remarked to Varric, who had grown thoughtful and silent between drinks and his initial tales of Hawke's adventures in hiding and journey to Skyhold. 

“Yeah. They are good people. A place for those that want to be heroes.” He took another sip from his drink. “And for those of us who know better.” 

There is much, Aveline thought watching the rogue's often jovial expression shift more and more into one of pain, that he is not telling me. When Varric finally excused himself they still had not spoken of Hawke's death. 

Aveline was lost in her own thoughts of the former Champion of Kirkwall when a dark-haired woman, clearly a warrior, with impressive scars and powerful bearing approached her table. 

“Cassandra Pentaghast.” The woman held out a gloved hand to her in greeting, which Aveline grasped firmly. “I am-”

“I know who you are.” Aveline interrupted her, startled by the sudden recognition. 

“Of course.” The woman seemed oddly apprehensive. “I feel I should apologize.” There was a pause. “When I-”

Aveline was slightly taken aback. This was unexpected. “I understand you were ordered to bring Varric to Haven, to search for the Champion.” She interrupted the Seeker's searching for words. It did not seem likely that a Seeker of the Chantry – the Divine's Right Hand – a woman of the reputation this Cassandra Pentaghast held – would apologize for what she, no doubt, had seen as her sacred duty. 

“What?” The woman's eyebrows furrowed in irritated confusion. “Yes, of course, I was.” She snapped. 

“So there's no need,” Aveline continued, “to feel you need to explain your actions to me. I understand the bonds of duty.”

The Seeker froze and her eyes widened. “What? You think – you thought-”

“You were apologizing for dragging Varric and Hawke into this Inquisition kicking and screaming?” Aveline suggested. 

“I wasn't.” The Seeker protested, then visibly reconsidered and continued earnestly. “They were your friends. I am sorry that it came to this. I tried to keep them safe. I failed and for that I am truly sorry.”

Aveline watched complicated emotions play over the Seeker's expressive face and decided to extend a peace offering. There was more going on here than she was able to grasp. 

“Why don't you have a seat and tell me more about it?” That was why she was here after all, to hear about what had happened to Hawke. Besides, her instincts told her that what the Seeker had to say would be truthful - and between the hard facts and Varric's evasive embellishments she might get a better sense of what had truly happened to Hawke in the Inquisition. 

It might have been the alcohol and the warmth of the tavern coursing through her veins, but she found this Cassandra Pentaghast rather engaging company after all. Her accounts of the Inquisition's beginnings were blunt and to the point, but as someone used to battle herself she was able to fill in the blanks. 

It was amusing to watch the Seeker mitigate her obvious irritation with Varric and Hawke for her benefit when Aveline knew all too well how difficult the two rogues could be. 

After a while, however, when they both had drunk more than they no doubt intended, she found herself the narrator – being questioned by a now seemingly awe-struck Seeker about the Champion's life and heroic feats in Kirkwall – and her own role in the _The Tale of the Champion_.

“You truly fought a whole compound of Qunari warriors together?”

Aveline laughed. “We did. Though, of course Varric does tend to omit that I had guards stationed outside the compound that came to our aid.”

“But you did save the Champion's life when you shielded her from the first attack of the Qunari spearmen?” 

“I am sure I shielded us both from several of the spears, but the Champion was quite able to dodge the attacks herself, of course.” Aveline tried hard to remember the details of the events of that night. “It all happened very quickly – I could not say for certain now how we finally managed to escape the cauldron of the compound. I _am_ certain we were quite lucky to get out.” She smiled wistfully. “Hawke's luck always seemed to work in our favor.” 

“It was not just luck.” The Seeker protested. “She truly was one of the most skillful fighters I have ever seen.” She swallowed. “I do count myself very lucky to have had the chance of fighting at her side.”

“As do I.” Aveline whispered. She _had_ been lucky. As much as she had complained about having to help Hawke to clean up her messes – Hawke had always been there for her friends. She had been there for her when it counted. Especially in their first year in Kirkwall when she had needed Hawke and her family more than she ever had admitted to them. After the death of Wesley and the loss of their home she needed to find a new purpose in this Maker-forsaken hole of a city. Hawke must have known how much Aveline struggled with her loss – though she never pried – she had always been in control of her own grief. “Hawke was my friend. I know the world will remember her as the Champion – but to me she was...” she swallowed and bent her head, as her throat constricted with a keen feeling of loss, “... family.”

The pity on the Seeker's face was genuine and so Aveline was grateful for the reassuring way in which her gauntlet-ed hand came to rest on her arm in a gesture of support and compassion. “She must have felt very lucky that you considered her as such.” 

“You never hear about Hawke as she truly was.” Aveline shook her head. “Even Varric finds it easier to talk of the Champion.” 

“Tell me then.” The Seeker offered. 

So she did.

__

The following morning, though she was nursing a small hangover, she found it easier to sit with Varric, who had prepared for her a foul drink he swore would soon rid her of her headache. Squinting at it she concluded it included vegetables as well as raw egg and spices and briefly considered asking for it to be heated up, suspecting it would make a better stew than it did a drink. Still, it had been kindly meant and so she suffered through sip after sip as Varric answered her questions. 

When Varric begged for a reprieve she acquiesced, taking herself on a walk of the battlements to clear her head. Her eyes stung, too dry for tears to come, and so she found a nook in a broken down part of the great bulk of the walls of Skyhold where she could sit sheltered from the wind and look out into the mountains around them. She felt drained but as if progress had been made. 

After a while the cold stone made her shiver and she returned to the more sheltered courtyards. The sounds of metal being worked on still echoed through the air, but there was the unmistakable sound of clashing swords as well. In the upper courtyard a small training area had been cordoned off where soldiers of the Inquisition were testing their skill. Behind them she spied Cassandra Pentaghast engaged in similar practice with a training dummy. 

“You don't prefer a go in the ring yourself, Seeker Pentaghast?” Aveline suggested to the Seeker's back, walking up to her. 

The Seeker spun around, sword in hand, but lowered it quickly when she saw it was her. “Hah!” Her laugh was deep and genuine. “I would prefer it, but I rarely get the chance to fight an equal opponent. I am told I can be rather intimidating.” She put her sword back on a rack that held multiple weapons. “I do teach the recruits sometimes, however.” 

“I am sure they benefit greatly from your lessons.” Aveline felt confident inferring as much. On a whim she added: “I could use a workout later - if you are interested.”

She was thrilled when the Seeker suggested they spar after the soldier's left the ring. “It will only be a short bout – I have business with the Inquisitor.” Cassandra explained.

After their first training session together their matches soon became regular occurrences – they drew a crowd. Aveline savored the challenge. At first the Seeker bested her every time – though she noticed with gratification that each time it took her longer to do so. It made sense, of course. The Seeker had the advantage of not only constant training, but also most certainly she had had more prominent teachers than Aveline had ever had – and she had fought much since the Inquisition started. Aveline thought herself stronger, but so far she had not been able to use that strength to its full advantage. 

She was able to learn, however, and able to study the Seeker's tactics. In fact, Cassandra – they had agreed on first names after their third fight (and second night at the Herald's Rest) – was eager to help her improve her technique. Thus, when Aveline finally bested her by the end of her first week at Skyhold it was not only herself that was elated with the victory, but also Cassandra who beamed at her success and congratulated her with a bone-crushing hug radiant smile that left Aveline breathless and her mind reeling. 

Maker, this was a woman unlike any Aveline had ever seen. A true heroine for the ages. If she had disbelieved any of the stories she had heard about the heroism of the young Right Hand of the Divine all these years ago – she was willing to believe them now. 

Talking about their technique and their equipment afterwards had led them to discussing the resident weapons experts that crafted weapons for the more elite members of the Inquisition in the bowels of the keep. Cassandra had made sure to arrange for herself and Aveline to visit the Undercroft that evening. Aveline had been full of admiration for a sword that been crafted for Cassandra there. Aveline was introduced to Master Harrit and Arcanist Dagna, and after that the four of them had talked for almost an hour. It was always a joy to talk to people that were so knowledgeable in their fields of expertise.

Two days later Cassandra presented her with her very own Skyhold-crafted blade. “Of course you will need to try it out,” she suggested eagerly, “and they will make adjustments if it is not weighted correctly for you.”

Aveline was rendered speechless at such kindness and attention – and quite happy to test her new blade instead of having to try to put her gratitude into words.

__

It was only when Aveline sat down with Varric that night, that the feeling of elation left her and the familiar ache returned to her heart. Here she was – won over so quickly by the woman that had hounded Hawke for months – had driven her friend into exile. Hawke had also delighted in giving extravagant gifts. That thrice-damned shield of her namesake – what had she been thinking? What would Hawke have made of all this now? She had admired Hawke: a strong woman, a generous friend, a leader. Sometimes she had even wondered if-

“Aveline?” Varric's raspy voice brought her back to the present. “You look miles away.”

“I am sorry.” Aveline felt the blush rise in her cheeks and leaned back in her chair to make it less obvious by putting some distance between herself and Varric. Here she was, supposedly to help Varric with the loss of his closest friend, and preoccupied with her own regrets – and distractions. 

Maker! She could see the glint in his eye. “Copper for your thoughts?”

Well, was this trip not about memories? About honesty? About Hawke? Miriam... “I-” she began, “it doesn't really matter now, but... I sometimes wondered: What did she really feel towards me?”

Varric's stare was intense. “Hawke? She loved you, Red, you know that.” 

Aveline shook her head. “The Hawkes became my family after Lothering, you know that. We always looked out for each other, but...” She sighed. “That is not what I meant.” 

If she had hoped for Varric to help her out here, she was mistaken. He merely watched her struggle for words with a kind smile she was not sure she deserved. 

“She flirted with me, you know? I mean, Maker, she flirted with everybody.” Aveline felt exasperated and sighed deeply. “I learned not to read too much into it. She was just being kind. She was my friend – and then there was Isabela, of course.” Isabela who was so sure of herself, so captivating, Isabela who came and went – at first she had thought Hawke deserved better, really, but the pirate had made her happy, had proven her worth - had been there for Hawke in ways that eluded Aveline. 

Varric gave a sad chuckle. “Oh, this is good.” He leaned closer to her. “She would have appreciated this, you know? Now, I don't know if it would have happened for you two – but she was very fond of you, that I know.” He gave her hand a brief squeeze before turning to the bar. “Now, let me get you another drink and don't worry about things that could have been. What you had was good, right?”

The ale was strong but not awful and as Varric was talking about the Champion they gathered a small crowd of interested faces. It was good then, to simply lean back and listen. To hear Hawke remembered well and to drink to her memory. Yes, what she had had with Hawke was good. And yet – _could_ it have been something else? After Wesley's death she had not looked for someone to replace her husband. It still had felt like he was with her for a long time. Even when she had eventually given up carrying his shield every day. Now, however, she was beginning to long for companionship. At first, she had told herself that the guardsmen were her family – or that her friends were enough - but if there was a chance of a meaningful connection to be made with someone whom she admired, felt drawn towards, who was not intimidated by her, whose company made her feel less alone... No, she was getting ahead of herself. She pushed the mug of ale away and got up to bid Varric good night. 

That night she could not sleep. She lay awake thinking about the time she had spent at Skyhold - and about her life in Kirkwall. Kirkwall, where she felt duty-bound to stay, but which her friends had all left. She had told herself that she was not lonely many times – but that was not entirely true. She was self-sufficient, comfortable with who she was – but there was a part of her that longed for the companionship of someone like-minded. The Seeker's kindness had been overwhelming, had brought up memories and feelings she had long since dismissed. It was not new to her that she could feel attraction to a woman, but it was not something she had much experience with. It was one thing to feel attraction and another thing to act on it. The crux of the matter, she admitted to herself, was that this was more than attraction. It was respect, admiration – a feeling of kinship. The promise of something that could be. 

She tried to consider this carefully in the following days. Should she act on these feelings? If she were to pursue this – she would have to do so carefully, but earnestly. She had not known Cassandra for long - but life was fragile, could be cut short. She knew her heart. This was not the time to be a coward. 

She would have to communicate her intent to the Seeker – to Cassandra – in a way that would become both of them. Cassandra Pentaghast was an important member of the Inquisition - what was more she was the former Right Hand of the Divine – and she was of noble blood. Aveline herself was the daughter of a chevalier – and she had made something of herself in Kirkwall. Cassandra had shown some interest - was the presentation of a costly blade not a Nevarran sign of esteem? There would be rules to be observed if she was to make her interest known. If she could only speak her mind! No, she would have to be patient and follow courtly custom and see what Cassandra's response would be.

Aveline dreaded the day she had to leave, but she knew she could not shirk her duties in Kirkwall any longer. This mess of a city still needed her. People counted on her there. So it was with a heavy heart she finally said goodbye to Varric – and to Cassandra. She promised she would send letters and insisted on an invitation to Kirkwall, though she knew that it would likely be a long time until she would see the Seeker again. Cassandra bid her a heartfelt farewell - Aveline felt the Nevarran's strong grip on her arms for a long time after she had left - and wished Aveline well on her journey with a voice heavy with emotion.

__

> _Dear Cassandra,_  
>  _I will miss our conversations and exercise. Your kind gift, which I treasure dearly, is doing me great service._  
>  _\- Aveline_  
> 

The Hydrangeas had suffered on their way from the markets of Jader, but with some help from Elan Ve'mal, Skyhold's expert herbalist, Cassandra was able to restore them to health. They were a thoughtful gift – but one that Cassandra could make little sense of. At Josephine's suggestion she looked up their possible meanings in the old Orlesian tome on soothsaying and symbolism in Skyhold's library: “frigidity and heartlessness – or gratitude for being understood.” Well, she assumed if there was a meaning inferred it must be the latter rather than the former. It had been good to find a warrior of similar abilities to her own – and someone with whom to talk so frankly about the late Champion of Kirkwall.

> _Dear Aveline,_  
>  _I am happy to report that the Hydrangeas have survived their way to Skyhold. It was a privilege to make your acquaintance. It is not often that I find someone with whom my rapport is so easy. I think of you._  
>  _\- Cassandra_  
> 

Aveline's heart opened to the sun of Cassandra's words. It had proven difficult to settle on the right choice of flowers on the markets of Jader. However, one particularly patient flower seller had assured her that these were the right choice. They represented a heartfelt sentiment and her deepest gratitude. It was good to see that Cassandra understood this. Recently she had acquired for herself a Nevarran guide to flower symbolism and felt confident in her next choice: daffodils to ask permission for the beginning of their courtship and wish for good fortune.

> _Dear Cassandra,_  
>  _now that I have arrived in Kirkwall again there is much work waiting for me. I am sure you understand that I have little time for myself, but I hope that you think of me still. Your letter has gladdened my heart. Write to me when you can._  
>  _My sincerest regards,_  
>  _\- Aveline_

The message came with a parcel, which held a small copper relief of daffodils. Cassandra was delighted when she found their meaning - “regard.” She placed the relief carefully on her nightstand, propped up against her books. It made her happy. It would be good to have a friend like Aveline Vallen.

__

It had been almost a year since Kirkwall's Guard Captain had visited Skyhold and they had become friends. Now that Corypheus was defeated and the Breach had been sealed, her life felt like it had was her own again – though she remained in service to the Inquisition, uneasy with where her future might take her. 

Thedas still needed her. She had set out from Skyhold on this trip along the coast first with a larger group that included the Iron Bull and his Chargers, then with only Sera and Varric who were joining her on the trip to Kirkwall. Well, really, she was joining Varric. He had suggested to her that she should come along now that their war was over. On their trip their band had first tackled tracking down many of the remaining demons on the loose in Ferelden – in fact the Bull and his Chargers continued on that path while Cassandra, Sera and Varric went to West Hill and then set sail for Kirkwall. All the while Sera kept asking her questions about Kirkwall and its Guard Captain, which Cassandra found she was quite happy to answer, however. Talking about Aveline made her happy – even more so now that she knew she would finally reunite with her.

Cassandra was both eager and apprehensive to see Aveline Vallen again. Their correspondence had brought her a lot of comfort – though there had, of course, been gaps in their exchange of letters, due to her unsteady life on the road and their busy lives. The letters she had written and received had never been long, but even a few lines from Aveline were guaranteed to make her smile – and it seemed her own poor missives had a similar effect on her friend. There had been months where their correspondence had stalled when she was dealing with the fate of the Seekers - then with the upheaval that being put forward as a candidate for the election of the the next Divine - but after both matters had been settled Aveline had been in her thoughts once more.

If Aveline's letters were always of a refreshing directness, her gifts and tokens of friendship, however, had proven more difficult to understand. Did she mean to compliment Cassandra's rashness with the hyacinth bulbs she sent in spring? Surely it was not jealousy, the other meaning she found. A small painting of marigolds for grief, despair and sorrow? Well, maybe this was a reference of the conversations they had shared over the loss of Hawke - or a gift of condolences over the loss of the Seekers? She had felt strangely comforted by the thought that she was not alone with her grief. White clover was straightforward: think of me. Cassandra was always glad to do so. White lotus for enlightenment and purity – well, the gift had been sent for Summerday and white was traditionally worn then. All in all Aveline's gifts continued to show her regard, and after some time Cassandra had decided she would try to reply in kind. Herbs were easier to come by, so she had settled on a gift of sage – for remembrance – rue for grace and clear vision and sprigs of oak for strength – and delicate, wild violets, which she had had framed in a small locket to express her loyal friendship. This all had been included in the last letter she had sent to Aveline before beginning her journey to Kirkwall. With any luck Aveline would have it for Wintersend. 

The city had not changed much since Cassandra had left it in the wake of the destruction of its chantry, though it seemed that its people had calmed and the streets returned to order and industry. There had been much to deal with here and Kirkwall's citizens seemed happy to focus finally on the rebuilding of their city. Varric surveyed it all with a keen eye and insightful comments. It was clear to Cassandra that he had missed his hometown greatly. There was no doubt in her mind that he would remain here – already he was pointing out ways in which things might be improved. 

Sera disappeared soon after they had entered the city. No doubt she was off to meet with some local Jennies. Cassandra always hoped that the lively rogue's ends justified her means. Sera knew where they could be found and likely would rejoin them later. 

Rooms had been organized for her in Hightown, where Varric had business looking after his family's and Hawke's estate – and near the Viscount's Palace, in which vast mountain of a building the guard had their barracks and Aveline, as guard captain, an office and a small apartment. 

Cassandra settled in, grateful to rid herself of the road's dirt and worn clothes and happily received a message from the Guard Captain who invited her for dinner in her office. She was exhausted – and yet, the prospect of spending her evening in pleasant company was in itself reviving. 

“You will have to excuse the location,” Aveline said, ushering her in, “I had little time to prepare something.”

Cassandra saw two chairs and a table – clearly not usually part of the Guard Captain's office – on which a simple meal was arranged. The centerpiece was a beautiful arrangement of flowers. 

“But this is wonderful.” Cassandra could not imagine a better place. The office was lit only by a few candles and a wall-sconce near the entrance and the effect made the room seem much cozier than it would in the daylight. 

Aveline pulled out a chair for her. “I am glad you think so.” 

Aveline's voice was warm and low and Cassandra thought the sensation it produced went very well with the overall effect of the room. Sitting down at this thoughtfully arranged table made her heart swell with gratefulness and affection for her friend. 

She could not stop looking at her friend. How had she forgotten the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled? The exact line of her striking profile? The beautiful shade of her hair – now cut short in a way that made Aveline's classical features even more striking? It was so good to really see her again. 

Cassandra felt entirely at ease. It was so easy to talk to Aveline, who was an attentive listener and asked intelligent questions about Cassandra's work with the Inquisition and her journey to the Free Marches. Cassandra cherished the feeling of being so readily understood. 

“Of course your duty is with the Inquisition, while it remains.” Aveline agreed. “Thedas would benefit from an independent peacekeeping force, and the Inquisition has done much to restore order after the Mage-Templar war and the horrors of the Breach.”

“We have tried to do good. I will remain at the Inquisitor's side for as long as she will have my service.” Cassandra took a deep breath. “To be honest, I often think about where I might be most useful if – when the Inquisition ends.”

“Your old ties were with the Chantry.” Aveline supplied. “When they crowned our new Divine – did you not think to return to the fold?” 

Cassandra took a sip of water and considered the question. “I will go back to to be part of the Council when they meet – but Leliana has made it clear that she has no need of my service other than the occasional advice.”

“What of the Seekers then? There must still be some left in Thedas.”

“I do hope for their sake that Lucius did not find them all.” 

Aveline flinched. “I am sorry, that was thoughtless of me. It must still be difficult for you to-”

“No.” Cassandra stopped her. “You are right. I do think about the Seekers still. I hope some survive and I wish them well. Maybe one of them will rebuild the order. But... after learning how much they knew – how they misused their knowledge, what they did... I am not sure they deserve to be rebuilt. At least - I will not be the one to do so.”

“I do see your problem.” Aveline's hand reached out to her and Cassandra took it almost instinctively. It was reassuring. “I am certain that you will find a worthwhile cause – even if the Inquisition ends. Many places have need of someone like you, who is a champion for justice and a fearless seeker of truth.” She squeezed her hand firmly. 

“Thank you, I... thank you.” Cassandra was touched by Aveline's obvious esteem and honest kindness.

"Kirkwall could-"

Frantic knocking interrupted them. Aveline dropped her hand and gave her a look of apology before rising to open the door. She returned moments later with a folded and clumsily sealed piece of parchment, visibly concerned. 

“This is for you. I was told it was an urgent message.” 

Cassandra broke the seal and unfolded the paper and saw a familiar scrawl. 

> _Baddies got me hiding. Jennies no use. Out of bees. Can't show my face. Get me out? Lowtown somewhere. Warehouse smells of tar and trees. ~~Piss. Looks like piss. Not of piss.~~ Pines. ~~Stupid.~~_  
> 

There was a crudely drawn map of a building where an “X” seemed to mark a room.

If this was another of Sera's pranks...

“I think,” Cassandra began, already slightly regretting filling in Sera on her plans for the evening, “that my friend might be in danger – and in need of my help.” Cassandra showed the note to Aveline.

“I will come with you of course.” Aveline offered readily.

Cassandra was grateful to have her help. She knew Kirkwall a little, of course, but Aveline's expertise and experience would be invaluable in trying to locate Sera in this city – and to defend her should the need arise.

__

Following Aveline's suggestion they began their search of Lowtown. A warehouse that smelled of tar and pines likely would be housing ship builders. There were certainly a few of those around the Lowtown docks. 

They had stopped at the Hanged Man to get Varric's opinion – and question him about all he knew of Sera's dealings in Kirkwall – and he had insisted on joining them. Cassandra knew she should be grateful for his help, but his presence had brought an end to the easy conversation she had been having with the Guard Captain. 

Varric at least had some idea of the direction Sera had ventured off in this night. With his help and Aveline's skills they soon tracked down a likely warehouse. 

The inside was dark, lit only dimly by faint moonlight coming from some windows above. Varric took point, protesting that any other position would render him useless behind the “moving wall” he likened Aveline and herself to. 

It was just as well to have him move ahead of them – she was not so well-versed as the rogue in the discovery of hidden traps, besides, Cassandra had the sneaking suspicion that Varric had been to this particular warehouse before. Of course he knew the hideouts of almost every shady character in this city. It should not be surprising. Even if her opinion of him had changed vastly over the years and she considered him a friend – she knew better than to trust him blindly. 

“Varric,” she began as they entered a long hallway of doors, empty but for a few dusty crates.

“Sshh!” He held out his hand behind him to stop them. “Do you hear that?” 

They listened intently. “I cannot hear anything.” Aveline said before Cassandra could do the same. 

“I am sure I heard a noise in the second to last room.” Varric insisted. “Now, ladies, it was all well and good to have me scouting ahead in an empty warehouse, but if you don't mind I'd rather go after you when you open that door.”

“Are we expecting trouble?” Cassandra could not help but whisper in irritation, “I thought Sera simply asked us to help her get out of her hiding place.”

“Trouble is always brewing in Lowtown.” Varric intoned in his narrative drawl. “Behind every Lowtown door there-”

“Spare me.” Aveline cut him off and went ahead to open the door.

Evidently someone had been living there. This seemed a very well-cared for hideout. There was a lantern on a desk where someone looked to have been reading a book that still lay open, chairs, crates and barrels that likely held supplies, a small stove that still radiated heat and a decent-looking bed in the corner. A row of small lanterns were strung upon a rope and cast low light upon the bed. It looked – comfortable. 

“Sera?” Cassandra whispered, joining Aveline in the room. 

There was a scuffle behind them and the door shut heavily. 

“Varric?!” Cassandra tried to open the door, just to hear the tell-tale click of a lock sliding into place and then heavy objects moving on the other side of the door. 

It was Sera's voice that answered. “Don't worry, yeah. I'm fine. You'll be fine too, but you need some time to sit down and talk to each other.” 

“What?!” Cassandra shouted. 

“You and the Knight Captain. This is taking too long, right?” Sera's voice was strained. 

“We _were_ sitting down-” Cassandra began while Aveline countered: “I am the _Guard_ Cap-” 

They stared at each other in disbelief. Some friends these were. Aveline joined her at the door and tried to open it to no avail. “What are you two doing out there? Varric?!” 

He gave a long whistle before replying. “Just moving some crates, so you ladies won't leave right away.” 

Varric was in on this then. How could they do this to them. “Why, Varric? Sera?”

“This is for the best.” Varric shouted even as they heard Sera cackle with glee. 

“We'll let you out in the morning. Just say thanks then, yeah?” Sera's voice was already retreating. 

“There is a present on the desk from myself – and if you feel brave enough you might check the crates for presents from Buttercup here.” Varric's voice was muffled now by what must be several crates barring the door from the outside. “Don't worry, we'll go outside to stand guard.”

“I cannot believe this. What do you two hope to accomplish with this... this...” Cassandra felt familiar outrage take over whatever confusion she had felt before. “Varric? Varric!” There was no reply. 

She looked back at Aveline, whose calm and composed demeanor was only belied by the crease between her brows. 

Cassandra sat down on one of the chairs heavily and focused her thoughts to try and calm herself. She was mystified. What did Varric and Sera hope to accomplish by this? It clearly was not unkindly meant, was it? The room, if it had indeed been prepared for them, was amenable and she was glad of Aveline's company. She voiced these thoughts to Aveline, who nodded and began to examine the room.

Pacing, Aveline picked up the book that lay on the desk, closed it and turned it over to look at its cover. She scoffed with a scowl. “ _Swords and Shields_ : I think Varric is merely trying to annoy me after all.”

Cassandra felt herself propelled out of the chair at the mention of the tile and eagerly tried to catch a glimpse of the book in Aveline's hands. “This is a new chapter!” She exclaimed before she could stop herself. She had not been aware he had been working on one. 

Aveline's expression immediately changed to one of amazement. “You know these books?”

“I... I enjoy them.” Cassandra felt her cheeks begin to burn. “After _The Tale of the Champion_ I – well, it was likely that Varric's other books might hold clues so I... investigated.” Aveline clearly did not share her love of the books?

“Maker, Cassandra.” Aveline sighed and then laughed. “Did you know he made up the Knight Captain to annoy me? At least I think he did. He and Hawke certainly had a good laugh about it. I cannot say for certain. Should I be flattered?” She held up the cover on which the flame-haired heroine was in an adventurer's pose – one foot already scaling a rock in front of her, while using her sword to lean on. The resulting pose showed off the broad shoulders of the Knight Captain and her gleaming armor. The figure's face was show in quarter profile, which highlighted her strong and determined chin and proud and beautiful face. Cassandra noticed a small pink rose in the impressively billowy hair when Aveline cleared her throat. “Cassandra?” 

Cassandra felt stunned. How could she not have seen it before? Here was the woman before her – and here was her likeness on the cover of _Swords and Shields_. This was... this was... “What?” She managed to say. Her throat felt a little dry. 

“You look like you've seen a ghost.” Aveline put down the book and mustered Cassandra worriedly. 

“You are the Knight Captain? She is based on you?” A knight in shining armor. Cassandra felt a little unsteady. 

“Well, I forbid Varric to ever again involve me in one of his friend fictions, don't ask, which he thankfully abstained from – but I suppose he and Hawke felt that I lacked romance and they took it upon themselves to think up this Knight Captain to play at romance with instead.” Aveline gave the book another sidelong glance. “I had it on good conscience that they were quite terrible. They must have proven more successful than I anticipated if you know it. ” 

“I-” Cassandra was mortified. “They may be terrible, the writing is - certainly not to the same standard than _The Tale of the Champion_ , but... the stories are.. magnificent. The Knight Captain is... is... she is a _wonderful_ character.” The Knight Captain was more to her than that, but how could she confess so much to Aveline knowing what she thought of these books. 

“She must be if you say so.” 

Oh, why was Aveline looking at her like that. “Yes! I can see now how you could have inspired her. I-” Cassandra faltered slightly. “I think she has many virtues that I also admire in you.”

“Cassandra.” Aveline looked at her for a few moments like she wanted to say more but then finally stopped herself. Instead she went over to the boxes that Varric had said held presents from Sera. “Shall we see what these are?” 

Cassandra was relieved at the change of topic. “We do have time,” she agreed. “But I would be careful if these were prepared by Sera. She likes her pranks.”

Aveline opened the first box. “This has bread, wine and – honey. Mugs and plates, too. I suppose they were not sure if we had eaten.”

“I suppose we should be grateful to them. For being so _thoughtful_.”

“Well,” Aveline sighed. “I suppose we can just continue our dinner here. Let us call this dessert.”

The wine did at least help to dispel her ire at the two rogues. There was a good supply of water, too, to quench their thirst – and wash off the dust of Lowtown. It was easy to find their prison absurdly comfortable. 

Still, Cassandra toyed with the idea of suggesting to Aveline the staging of a swift assault on the walls of the room. Together they might very well cause enough damage to break free. She sighed instead and made herself more comfortable, taking off what parts of her metal armor she was still wearing. Aveline had already done the same. 

“Given up on the more direct approach then?” Aveline commented with a tone that suggested some dry humor. 

“I am not sure if the owner of this warehouse would appreciate our laying it to ruin.” Cassandra surmised and sat down on the edge of the bed then finished the rest of the wine in her mug. 

“A tempting thought, yes.” Aveline agreed and offered to refill her mug. “Though Varric and his accomplice were clever enough provide a reason in this room for me to go along with their harebrained plan.”

Cassandra held out her mug. Aveline stood closer, refilling it, and Cassandra felt oddly distracted by the way Aveline's hands held the wine bottle. “What do you mean? What reason?”

“You.” 

“Why would I be enough of a reason for you to want to stay in this room?”

“Cassandra!” Aveline turned away and put the bottle of wine back on the table.

Aveline may have seemed calm to her, but there it was again – a flash of some irritation when she turned to face her, agitation directed at her that Cassandra could not quite make sense of. 

“Cassandra I – I think I have told you before how much you mean to me.” Aveline's voice was possessed of a strength that Cassandra was fond of. “I had a small gift made for you – I was not sure if I was going to give it to you tonight, but-” 

“You brought it with you?” Cassandra was incredulous. What was this gift?

Aveline reached into her shirt and produced a silverite pendant on a necklace that looked to be made of the same metal. She knelt down in front of Cassandra and slowly took her hand and gently placed the pendant into Cassandra's palm. It was ornamental and the flowers were carefully enameled – it showed a relief of moss rosebuds and thistles. Prickly love? Cassandra was confused. Even more so because the warm metal – warmed by Aveline's body heat – seemed to stir her emotions in ways she was not sure were altogether warranted. 

“Cassandra, we have always found it easy to communicate – but, I fear, I am not sure we have always understood each other.” Aveline's concern made her voice raspy. “I hope we _do_ understand each other. I hope I have not misunderstood your gifts – and I have long meant to reply in kind.” 

“Misunderstood my gifts?” Cassandra's blood ran hot and cold trying to recall all that she had sent. “They were meant as tokens of my sincerest friendship.” 

Aveline swallowed visibly. “Friendship,” she repeated. “You sent me violets – thoughts occupied with love?” 

“I-” Cassandra could not believe it. What a mistake she had made! She had let her friend believe that – that... She closed her eyes. This was too much. “Forgive-”

Aveline interrupted her by taking her hand. “Thistle – for bravery, determination and devotion – you have those qualities in abundance, more than anyone I have ever known. Moss rose buds – a confession of love. My confession of love.” 

Cassandra's eyes flew open. “You-”

“I love you, Cassandra. Not only as a friend.” 

But you are a woman! Cassandra wanted to say – but stopped herself from blurting it out. Aveline knelt in front of her still, patiently awaiting her response, the very picture of a true knight. It was very romantic, another part of her noticed with interest. 

“I have never – when did you... since when have you felt this way?” 

“I knew when I left Skyhold.” Aveline said truthfully. “I had hoped I had communicated as much with my gifts. I intended to court you as your Nevarran noble heritage-”

“My Nevarran heritage?” Cassandra could not help herself but snap. “What has that-” A sudden thought overwhelmed her. “You used a Nevarran book on flowers?”

“I – yes – what did you...?”

“Skyhold's library.” 

“Oh.” Aveline's determination seemed to falter for the first time since she had begun confessing her love. 

Cassandra's heart hurt to see it. This was not what she wanted, she realized with sudden clarity, she did not want to reject her friend – her... her... “You intended to court me?” She was filled with wonder, which overrode her instinct to flee. 

Aveline nodded. “I did.” 

Aveline looked at her so earnestly Cassandra's heart ached. This was impossible! She had always longed to be courted – and she had not realized... But she had known happiness in these past months she had not known for a long time. Even now, looking at Aveline, she knew this woman had been the cause of it. This... tenderness... this overwhelming affection she felt for Aveline – was it not... could it not be love? What could she say? The amulet in her hand felt heavier than it had before. She felt the raised ridges of the flower ornament and felt certainty grow within her. She held out her hand with the pendant to Aveline. “Will you help me put it on?”

Cassandra was not sure if it was herself or Aveline that trembled, but when the necklace was secured and she felt the pendant slip between her breasts the overwhelming response of her body nearly took her breath away. She was certain she was blushing all over. “Thank you.” She could not help but smile, a little out of breath. 

Aveline's cheeks were flushed and she returned her smile. “I am honored.”

“Well, I-” Cassandra tried to focus. It was too hot and stifling in this room – how had she not noticed this before? “Thank you.” She said again and bit her lip, unsure of the right words to communicate the complexity of her feelings. 

Aveline's blush had deepened and she had to feel the heat as Cassandra did, because she rose and took off the heavy shirt she had been wearing, revealing a lighter short-sleeved tunic underneath – and her shoulders and arms, over which the blush also spread together with a dusting of freckles that Cassandra could not look away from. “You are beautiful.” Cassandra said, because it was true. 

Aveline's expression was so vulnerable suddenly – and yet her posture spoke of such strength... Cassandra marveled at it. Yes, Aveline was beautiful - magnificent. She was drawn to her - and, yes, she desired her. With a few steps she reached Aveline and embraced her. Aveline gasped, but then returned her embrace. 

Cassandra's heart beat so hard that she was certain Aveline had to feel it, too. Maybe this was a foolish impulse, but she took Aveline's hand again and led her backwards – slowly towards the bed. 

“Are you sure?” Aveline held her hand tightly. 

Cassandra knew she had made up her mind. “Yes.” She pulled Aveline towards herself, letting the momentum guide them down. 

As she felt her back hit the expanse of the bed she also had the uncomfortable sensation of crushing something beneath her. “Wait!” she yelped, rolling to the side. 

Aveline, who had no way of expecting this, landed heavily on the bed beside her. “Hmph! What?!”

Clearly she also felt whatever was buried beneath the blankets and sat up to uncover it. As the blankets were lifted the smell was unmistakable. There, on the sheet covering the bed, were bunches and bunches of red roses – most of which now looked broken and crushed. 

Sera. Of course this was her plan. Cassandra could not stop herself from laughing, when Aveline, incredulous, held up one particularly maligned bouquet of roses. “I think our captors were eager to set the right mood if we went to bed.”

“I had had the sneaking suspicion that they knew a little more about us than I was aware of.” Aveline agreed and plucked a single unmarred rose from the bunch. “A single red rose,” she said, offering it to Cassandra, “you are the one for me.” 

Cassandra, feeling giddy, picked out two roses and offered them in return. “Let us be together.” After Aveline had accepted the flowers Cassandra leaned forward and followed her gift up with a kiss on Aveline's cheek. 

Aveline, who had to steady herself on the bed, flinched and held up her hand, to which a particularly thorny rose was stuck. “We should take them off the bed, ” she said, carefully freeing herself of her thorny hanger-on. 

Together they removed all the blankets and pillows and carefully took of the sheet full of roses, which Aveline suggested they might try to save in the morning. They fitted one of the larger blankets over the mattress as a replacement sheet and surveyed their work with some satisfaction. 

“Let me see your hand.” Cassandra took Aveline's hand up again and was happy to see that – though scratched – there was really only one small puncture wound over which the blood was already drying. She pressed a careful kiss on Aveline's injured hand. 

Aveline sighed and then slowly moved her hand so she was cupping Cassandra's cheek. “I could never have anticipated what happened this evening, and I am not sure what Varric's and Sera's just deserts should be for their... help. But I do know my heart, Cassandra.” With that she lowered her head to meet Cassandra's lips and kissed her. 

It was wonderful to be kissed again. It had been such a long time. Cassandra responded tenderly at first – and then with growing eagerness. Aveline's lips were soft and her arms came around Cassandra in a way was altogether reminiscent of scenes she had read in books: strong and gentle. Aveline tasted slightly of the wine and honey they had been having and when she deepened her kisses and Cassandra truly felt the heat of her mouth a flash of energy shot all through her core. 

“Oh,” she whispered and withdrew a little, resting her forehead against Aveline's temple. Aveline's hand rested on her back, and Cassandra felt overcome with the desire to feel Aveline's touch on her skin. She withdrew a little and began undoing the ties of her gambeson. “Help me take this off!” 

Aveline undid some of the ties and she felt her fingers tremble when they reached for the last knot together – finally she undid it herself – and Aveline, asking permission with a look – once it was granted – slipped her hands under the gambeson and over her shoulders, taking the garment off with practiced motions. 

The feel of skin on skin made Cassandra's heart race and she ran her hands under Aveline's shirt while Aveline caressed her back and peppered her shoulders with kisses. Then she moved Aveline's hands to her breastband – it quickly was unraveled and Aveline drew her close again for more kisses when it was done. 

This time, when she led Aveline to the bed, they were sure not to encounter any obstacles. Cassandra moved as if in a dream. Aveline steadied her, gently laid her down on the blanket and then knelt over her while she took off her own shirt and breastband. The shirt removied Cassandra could see that Aveline wore the locket of violets she had sent her, the realization stunned her. Cassandra watched mesmerized as Aveline's muscles rippled in the warm light of the lanterns, which lent a lovely glow to her pale skin. Aveline's breasts were smaller than her own – her chest more muscular – she reached up to touch then and Aveline leaned into her touch with a small smile, before bending down over her and resuming her kisses. 

Eventually, eager to feel more of her lover, and feel the weight of her, Cassandra drew Aveline flush against her. The sensation was fire and steel, satin and lightning. Aveline gasped then moaned as Cassandra brushed her lips all over her neck and down to her collarbones, moving beneath her lover. She felt the need to drink Aveline in – to consume all that she craved so much. The careful touch of her lips turned to hungry open-mouthed kisses all over Aveline's chest.

They moved against each other, friction sending sparks to Cassandra's brain as she rocked against Aveline again and again, breathed in her smell of spices and sweat – it was not unpleasant – no, it belonged to her, she had to memorize it – as she had to memorize everything about this night. It was too precious to ever be forgotten. 

Aveline's hand caressed her leg, then rested on her thigh, warmth seeping through the leather of her trousers and Cassandra turned her whole body towards the sensation there. When Aveline cupped her sex the desire built within her and she moaned, nipping at Aveline's throat, no longer cautious not to leave marks. Aveline's hand was broad and strong – and knowing it was Aveline touching her made it even more arousing. 

Both of their breathing had grown ragged and Cassandra followed the trail of coarse hair down the muscles of Aveline's stomach to the fastenings of her trousers. “Can I?” she asked between breathless kisses. Aveline kissed her more deeply in response and then whispered: “Yes!” 

To just feel her – to be allowed to touch – it was overwhelming. She listened eagerly to Aveline's moans and whispered instructions, amazed at how she was able to please and when she felt Aveline's muscles contract around her fingers and felt her shiver at the peak of her pleasure it was almost enough to make her reach it, too. 

They lay still for a short time afterwards, caresses slow and languid, before Aveline in turn asked permission to touch her. They were briefly stalled by a shared fit of laughter, as Aveline struggled to take off Cassandra's admittedly very tight leather trousers – but when she lay there naked, with Aveline looking at her with such wonder and love – it was easy to remember the passion and longing she had felt. Aveline _was_ what she wanted – her fingers, her kisses, her voice – to be touched and touched again, filled, caressed and made love to. Finally, to be held and to hold in return. 

Aveline trailed the line of necklace across Cassandra's chest. 

A thought struck Cassandra. “I did not bring a gift for you.” 

“There is no need.” Aveline kissed her shoulder. “You have given me many already - and you are here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to amarmeme and sweettasteofbitter for the betas and moral support.


End file.
